Drinking in Bars with Lawyers
by LTP-girl
Summary: A snippet in the downward spiral of Kathleen Stabler.
1. Chapter 1

**Just some drabble. I don't know whether I'll continue it as a story or not. Let me know what you think *^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Law & Order_ franchise and its characters.

Gavel Bar, One Hogan Place, 10:20pm

Michael Cutter stared despondently into the glass of eight-year-old scotch sitting in front of him, his head slumped in misery as he contemplated the events of that day. He had failed to prove malice in a murder trial, the prosecution's key witness passing out drunk during the defence's cross-examination not helping matters, Judge Braden declaring a mistrial. This made it his fourth mistrial in a row.

"We just didn't prove our case," his ADA, Connie, had insisted as they left the courthouse that afternoon.

Mike somehow doubted that. He considered that foul play was to blame, the defence slipping the witness a mickey. He felt that there was something sly about the young hot-shot, defence attorney Ethan Marks, despite there being no sufficient evidence to prove his involvement in witness tampering, or anything else that went against his character.

_Ah, fuck him, _he cursed to himself, taking a swig of his drink, the alcohol beginning to numb his senses.

Kathleen eyed the smartly dressed man sitting at the bar across the room, admiring his slender build, his jacket removed and shirt sleeves rolled up, as he leaned over the bar.

She made her way stealthy towards the older man.

It wasn't common form, her approaching sleazy old men in bars. She usually waited for them to approach her. But there was something intriguing about this guy that awakened her interest. Something dark and alluring. And he certainly didn't come across as sleazy. Perhaps it was the three mojitos she had consumed earlier tweaking her perception.

She let her fingers run playfully along the gentleman's arm to get his attention.

He looked up at the blonde standing before him, a little surprised to see her there.

"Hey, Mr, you want some company tonight?" she asked in a low voice.

Mike gawked at her, his mouth agape, taken aback by her approach.

"Don't you want to take me to some seedy hotel room where we can do the nasty?" she said teasingly. She moved a little closer, the sharp scent of his cologne pricking her senses.

His lips curled up in response to the eager twinkle in her eyes. After the day he had, he was up for anything to keep his mind off the trial.

_Wait a minute,_ he thought cautiously. There was something about her he didn't trust. She appeared young, his reasoning telling him that she was possibly _too _young.

She could have been in her late teens, but she would have easily passed as a woman in her early twenties.

As a prosecutor, he had put countless men in prison for mistaking an underage girl for someone much older. He certainly didn't want to become one of those men.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh sweet-hawt, trust me I'd love to," he said. "But ah..."

She flirtatiously slid her fingers through his greying hair, a sense of mischief hindering behind a superficial innocent expression.

His eyes widened, astounded by her forthright advances. He had to admit, it had been a while since he had last received such attention from a beautiful young woman.

"Then let's get out of here," she said, feeling herself drowning in the silver-blue of his eyes.

He rested his arm on the bar, his eyes staring her up and down. There was no denying she was attractive, and if there wasn't a question about her legal age, he would have bought her a drink, shared some harmless sweet-talk, and then taken her home with him.

His eyes narrowed pensively. "How old are you?" he enquired warily. His voice turned matter-of-factly. "Because if you're a day under eighteen, _we're_ not going anywhere."

"I'm twenty-two, actually," she said to him confidently, a warm smile plastered across her face. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out her wallet to show him her _fake_ I.D.

Mike took it from her hand, and held it up to the light to get a better look. "Kathleen Stabler, D.O.B: 1987," he read from the small piece of plastic. He glanced back up at her, handing back her I.D card.

He patted the stool next him, signalling for Kathleen to take a seat.

She moved the stool closer towards him, before plonking herself onto it.

He placed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "What's your drink, pumpkin?" he asked her, his eyes intent.

She detected a seductive hue in his New England accent. "I'll have another mojito," she replied, his steady gaze causing the hairs on the back of her neck to raise and stiffen.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Aww, aren't you sweet?" he said with a debauched wink.

He finished off the remainder of his scotch, and banged his empty glass on the bar, before calling out to the barman.

"Another scotch, and a mojito for the lady."

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


	2. Chapter 2

Stabler Residence, Queens, NY, Friday, 7:00pm

Friday was a busy night, for everyone except Kathleen. She would be spending the evening at home alone, having been grounded after using her father's credit card to buy a pair of five hundred dollar shoes. She figured that she could use the time to work on her history essay, having fallen behind in her classes over the past couple of weeks. She removed the library books she had taken out that afternoon from her school bag, along with her laptop computer, and set up for work at the kitchen table. At least her parents would be pleased with her efforts, she thought to herself begrudgingly. She took a seat at the table, the book _An Historical Take on History _opened at page 234, the _Global Economic Collapse_. She considered she'd write her essay on how rice and corn were used as a commodity.

It was then that her phone began to ring.

She looked at the number cautiously before answering, not recognizing it at first.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pumpkin,"

She felt her heart stop for a moment in excitement when she recognized the voice.

There was a hint of a gravel in his voice. _Mmmnnn. I don't know why so many people complain about being called up for jury duty, when you have that to listen to throughout a trial. He most certainly has my verdict._

"You remember last week?" He asked her.

There was a moment of silence. "Oh Mike," she replied as calmly as possible, trying not to sound like her heart was about to leap from her chest. "Of course I remember."

"I hope you don't mind my calling you," he said apologetically.

"Mind? No. I-It's so good hear from you."

He chuckled. "I'm pleased to hear that. I was hoping that our little, ah, meeting wouldn't be the only one we'd have," he said smoothly.

She was delighted by his words.

"So, ah, I'm free for the rest of the evening," he continued. "If you're interested? Maybe we could get something to eat and go from there…"

"I'd love to," she replied, before he could finish what he was saying.

"…Okay." He sounded taken aback by her urgency. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

She glanced down at the time displayed in the corner of her computer screen. "About eight. I'll text you my address."

"Okay, I'll pick you up at eight," he replied. "See you then. Stay beautiful for me."

Mike slid his blackberry into his pocket, before dropping several case-files into his briefcase.

There was a knock at the door before Jack McCoy entered his office. "Hey Mike," he greeted. "I couldn't help but overhear that you have plans with a special lady tonight?"

Mike snorted, agitated by the District Attorney's frequent intrusion into his personal life. "Can't keep a lid on anything in this office."

"I just wanted to congratulate you," he said applauding. "It's been a while since you've, well… been out with a girl…"

"You're not asking if you can tag along, are you?" Mike enquired facetiously.

Jack leaned against the bookcase, his arms folded. "It'll do you good to get out," he said, ignoring Mike's witty jibe.

"Since when were you so concerned with my wellbeing?"

"Well, one thing's for sure, all court and no play makes Mikey a very mean lawyer."

An exasperated sigh escaped Mike's mouth. "What can I say? I nailed the bastard this time, didn't I?"

Jack chuckled. "You know what I've found funny about you, Mike? Whenever the court's in your favor, you call on some girl to help you celebrate."

Connie entered through the door at the opposite end of his office. "Hey Mike, the cops and I are going for a beer. A victory drink. You're welcome to join us?"

He shrugged on his suit jacket. "I would, but I have other plans."

She nodded, folding her arms, exchanging a wry smile with Jack. "I'll take that as a _no_."

Jack turned around to face her. "Mike will be celebrating on his own this evening, with some lucky lady."

"Oh?" Connie raised her eyebrows. "And who might this lady be? It's not Carol from Victims' Services is it? She's had a thing for you since day one," she informed him. "Just a word of advice, she has a real breath problem."

"No it's not Carol. Just some girl I met in bar last week," he said. He felt his blackberry beeping in his pants pocket, and quickly retrieved it, pleased with Kathleen's hasty response. He clutched the handle of his briefcase and headed towards the door, reading the text message on his way out. "Sorry, I've got to go," he called out to his two colleagues. "I'll keep you posted with any new developments over the weekend." And with that, he was down the corridor, pushing his way onto the already crowded elevator.

Jack shared a joke with Connie. "No, wouldn't want prince charming to be late for his lady in waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is the latest update for this story, yay! Chemistry brews when Mike takes Kathleen out for a night on the town. Also, Olivia makes an appearance in this chapter. Let me know what you think*^_^***

Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order: SVU_ and its characters.

Ridgewood, Queens, NY, Friday, 8:20pm

Kathleen lingered beneath the streetlight, swinging her small handbag from side to side in a dawdled fashion. She checked for the time on her watch. _Where is he?_

She was about to pack it in and head back inside, when a high-beamed silver Audi raced down the street before screeching to a halt. The front window of the vehicle wound down slowly.

"Sorry I'm late," Mike called out to her. "Get in."

She opened the door and took a sat down in the passengers' seat next to him. "Apology accepted," she replied warmly as she leaned over the console, placing a chased kiss on his lips. She was taken by surprise when he deepened the kiss slightly. She slid languid fingers through his graying hair, welcoming the impassioned gesture. She felt the increased heat in her cheeks as she parted from him, feeling his steel blue eyes pierce through her. "So ah, where we going tonight?" she asked, glancing out of the window.

He put his foot on the accelerator, the car roaring off into the night.

He smiled at her. "This little place I know," he replied. He and Jack had lunch there on several occasions, and Mike considered the elegant restaurant's surroundings to be just perfect for a romantic evening, what he had intended to share with Kathleen that night. "I'd like to tell you, but I'm not going to."

"Oh and why's that?" she asked teasingly, feeling a little more at ease in his presence.

"Because it's a surprise."

He took her to a quant French restaurant, _La Petite Maison Bleue_, imbedded deep in the brightly lit metropolis streets of Manhattan.

"This place is one of the city's well kept secrets," he informed her, as the host led them to a table situated by a window overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge and alluring lights of New York City.

Kathleen also noted how the staff seemed to know him well.

He stopped to converse with the host before taking a seat. "Carlotta, can you get one of your waiters to bring us a bottle of your finest red?"

"Certainly Mr Cutter," she replied, exchanging warm smiles with both Kathleen and Mike.

Once seated, he watched as Carlotta made her way towards the other end of the restaurant, disappearing into the background. He then turned to face Kathleen, and reached his hands over the small table to touch hers. He rolled the balls of his fingers over the backs of her hands. "Mmmnn, your skin is so soft," he said to her, a seductive hue in his voice.

She looked away from him, her cheeks burning.

She certainly wasn't the precocious young woman he had met at the bar a week before.

He searched her face for an explanation, making her eyes meet with his. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked with genuine concern.

Her reddened cheeks and the way she tried to avoid his eyes led him to believe that he had. He let go of her hands gently. "I'm sorry."

He could read her like a book. He was a lawyer after all.

A waiter approached their table and poured them each a glass of African Shiraz.

Kathleen took in the pleasant European surroundings. "So, how do you know this place?" she asked, diverting the topic of conversation.

"My boss and I come here for lunch sometimes," he answered.

"The people know you."

"My boss is Jack McCoy. He's somewhat a celebrity around here."

"One of Manhattan's top prosecutors. He's District Attorney now, right?"

Mike raised he's eyebrows, surprised by her knowledge of this. "Yeah, that's right."

"My dad works for the NYPD," she explained.

"Oh really? What department?" He sounded intrigued.

"Special Victims Unit."

Kathleen had the braised scallops with garlic and lemon butter sauce, while Mike had the Duck a l'Orange, and they both ordered salads to go with their meals.

They resumed small talk, and Kathleen didn't know whether it was the wine or the serene settings of the charming establishment, but somewhere halfway through the dinner she began to relax.

Mike came across as a very interesting guy, with a lot of determination towards his job, and she detected something about him that was familiar to her. Integrity. A trait that seemed to reign true with people holding professions in law enforcement.

"What about you? Working? Studying?"

"I… um, I ah, I'm a… grad student," she lied, blurting out the first thing that popped into her head, keeping in mind the age stamped on her fake ID card. She didn't offer any further information. For now at least. In her experiences, lying often required a lot of thought and focus, and her focus had jarred after two glasses of wine.

"Really? What are you studying?"

"Ah… American History." She tried her best to move the conversation away from her. "How long have you been an ADA?"

"Twenty-four years," he replied. "I applied for the DA's office right out of law school."

"That's a long time," she said, her expression thinking. "Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Sometimes," he said, and sighed, his expression peeved. "I've often found myself wondering if the pay's worth it, with what they're paying honest civil servants these days." He paused for a moment. "But I was recently promoted, which has changed all that."

Kathleen rested her head on her hand, watching him closely, as he continued to talk. The wine seemed to have completely evaporated the nervous tension between them.

A waiter cleared their table.

"So…?" She gave him an evasive smile. "Do you have any kids?"

Mike was surprised by her question. "Ah, no, never been married," he answered, slightly dumbfounded. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged, tapping the hard caramel shell on her crème brulee with a spoon. She looked up at him with a wry smile and mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, you seem old enough."

He chuckled. "I'm old enough to be _your_ father."

She set her spoon down. "How old are you anyway?" she wanted to know.

She was becoming very forthright with her questions. "Ah, that's privileged information," he joked roguishly, staring down at his plate. He was learning her game.

"Come on. You asked my age when we met in that bar last week. I showed you my ID. It's only fair you tell me _your_ age."

"It's different when you're on the other side of twenty-five," he answered. He glanced up at with a debauched grin. "How old do you think I am?"

"Umm… _fifty-two_?" she guessed, her eyes twinkling with impudence.

"I'm forty-five," he retorted, sounding almost outraged. He dipped his finger in the whipped cream on his raspberry tart, and dabbed it on her nose playfully. "Cheeky bitch."

She wiped the cream off her face with a napkin.

They moved onto light discussions, topics ranging from politics, fashion, art, and family.

"You live with your parents?" he asked. "It's just that I noticed your house, and it looks kind of big for a couple of students to be sharing."

"Yeah, I'm still at home," she answered. "I'll be moving out when I've finished studying." She changed the subject once again. "What does your niece, Sophia, do?"

"She's a freshman at NYU," he informed her. "Majoring in political science. She's a lesbian, came out last year. She's also a member of, oh, what's it called? Some gay activist group?" he tried to think. "It's this new militant lesbian rights group."

"LesBeStrong?"

"Yeah, that's the one. How'd you know?"

"It's only been all over the news every night for the past few weeks. And there are flyers all over campus."

"You attend NYU too?"

"Ah huh," she answered. "So, um, are you a member of PFLAG? You know, the Parents and Families of Lesbians and Gays? Well, it would make sense, given that your niece is a lesbian and all, and with you being so supportive of her lifestyle…" She was rambling.

His expression turned suspicious, a wry smile forming on his mouth. "Why is it that every time I ask a question about you, you turn the subject back to me?"

She didn't quite know how to answer his question, feeling very much a deer caught in headlights. "Do I?" she sounded surprised.

"Yes, continuously."

She took a moment to think. "Well I… I… I think I'm pretty boring, actually," she replied with sincerity. "My life just revolves around school and family. I don't go out much, and I don't have many interests…"

Mike cupped her cheek in his hand. "Oh, I don't think you're boring," he told her, his voice low. His eyes glimmered with contentment. "You certainly weren't boring last week after I took you back to my apartment." He leaned across the table and kissed her slowly. He parted from her, and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She didn't seem as keen as she had earlier that night when he spoke to her on the phone. "Tell you what, why don't we head back to my place after this, and watch a movie or something? We don't have to go to bed or anything. I'd just like to spend some more time with you. You're fun to be around."

"Okay," she agreed, her expression lively. She squeezed Mike's hand before getting out of her seat. "I'm just going to the ladies room."

Mike watched on as she made her way towards the other end of the restaurant.

Kathleen was brushing past a crowd of people near the bar, when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey Kathleen?"

He whirled around to see who the person was trying to get her attention.

_Oh no_. It was Detective Benson. _Just remain calm._

Olivia made her way towards Kathleen, a fluted glass of champagne in her hand. She was dressed in an oyster tulip dress, and wearing the pair of silver black onyx and diamond earrings Kathleen's parents had given her for Christmas one year.

"H-hey Olivia, w-what are you doing here?" Kathleen wanted to know, startled.

"I should be asking you the same question," she challenged. She glanced back at her table, where a well-dressed young man was sitting. "I'm on a date actually, with this guy Rick. He's a new member of our forensic team." She turned around to face Kathleen once again. "What are you doing out so late? Your dad told me you were grounded for stealing his credit card."

_God damnit, why does Dad have to tell her everything! _

"Yeah well, ah, I'm not grounded anymore," Kathleen answered sheepishly. "I helped Dad clear out the garage, so he let me go out tonight. I'm just here with some friends." She nudged towards a group of girls that looked about her age. "Just a girls' night out."

"Ah hah," Olivia replied, not sure whether to believe her.

"Hey Liv, over here," the young man called out to her. "I ordered sticky date pudding. We can share."

"Good to see you again Kathleen, it's been a while." Olivia exchanged a firm embrace with Kathleen. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Drop into the precinct some time."

"Oh, I'll be sure to do that," Kathleen agreed. "Good to see you too."

"I'll leave you to it." Olivia gave her an encouraging smile.

Her eyes followed Olivia as she made her way back towards her table.

/

Rick continued his story.

"So I tell the guy, 'well maybe if you put the Petri dish in the incubator when I told you, we wouldn't be in this mess'." He noticed Olivia hadn't been listening. "Liv? Liv?"

She jumped to Rick's attention. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

He sighed, his tone discouraged. "Sorry if I'm boring you," he apologized. "I've just been settling into my new job, and I haven't been out in a while."

"Oh no, no, no, please continue?" She smiled brightly at him.

He took a moment to think. "Your job must be really interesting," he said. "Putting all those perps in jail. You know, my uncle was a cop. Served thirty-years with Pittsburgh PD…"

Olivia spotted Kathleen in the corner of her eye, she made her way towards the front desk. An older man appeared to be following her. She felt her jaw nearly hit her shoes as she watched this mysterious man lean down to kiss her neck.

Kathleen wasn't out with her girlfriends at all! She was on a date, with some sleazy middle-aged man. Not only that, but there was something oddly familiar about this older man. It was then that it hit her.

_Michael Cutter from the District Attorney's Office! _

Olivia had met him on numerous occasions, the times she had travelled to Cabot's office. He and Cabot always seemed quite close, and Olivia was even beginning to suspect that their relationship went far beyond the occasional business dinner. Although, she had to admit, despite these brief interactions, she didn't know Cutter very well.

Olivia watched him take Kathleen's hand, and guide her out the door of the restaurant. She couldn't help but think of Cabot's outraged expression.

Rick's voice broke her thoughts once again. "Olivia, I know when someone's stringing me along to spare my feelings," he said, sounding defeated.

Olivia gave him a gentle smile. "You know Rick, you're a nice guy…" she began.

"…but I'm just not your type of guy, am I?" he finished, looking intently into his eyes. His expression hurt. "If you want to finish up and go home, I understand."

The waiter dropped a bill on the table.

Olivia wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, now with Kathleen's welfare on her mind.

She dropped a couple of twenty dollar bills on the table, as she got out of her seat, grabbing her jacket and purse. "Tonight really was something and I've had good time," she told him sincerely. "But I'm afraid I have to go."

He nodded. "See you Monday," he replied with a smile, trying his best to hide his discouragement. He glanced down at his hands, a little dumbfounded by Olivia's awkward rush to leave.

She then left, digging into her purse for her phone as she hurried towards the door, nearly bumping into a waitress carrying a tray full of wine-glasses on her way out.

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-D**


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